First Date or Second Thoughts
by forensicsgirl
Summary: Love & Revenge: Story 2. Sequel to 'Cold Vengeance'. GSR. A Loan Shark is found murdered in an unusual way. And it's the morning after the night before for Sara and Grissom will it be smooth sailing from here on in? What do you think?
1. PreCredits Teaser

**Title – **First Date or Second Thoughts

**Author – **forensicsgirl

**Pairing – **Grissom/Sara

**Rating – **K+ (PG)

**Author's Note - **Sequel to 'Cold Vengeance', set early in season 5. A Loan Shark is found murdered in an unusual way.

It's the morning after the night before for Sara and Grissom

... and of course, it's not going to be smooth sailing for them. There's a reason this guy never seems to get past the first date :-) Hope you enjoy, let me know if you do.

**Disclaimer - **As talented as I like to kid myself I am, I did not come up with the characters or the amazing programme this was based on. That was Anthony E Zuiker (henceforth known as The Genius). I just like to immerse myself in the world from time to time and pretend...

**Author's Note Addendum – **As with Cold Vengeance, this is an updated version of the story with (hopefully) all (or close to all) grammatical & continuity errors removed.

Chapter One – Pre-Credits Teaser

The stench of death hung heavily in the air as Grissom and Brass surveyed the scene. Vincent McMann, loan shark and all around bad guy was tied to a chair, covered in lacerations. Blood pooled beneath him, sticky and black like tar.

'Cleaning Lady found him,' Brass informed Grissom. 'She comes in once a week.'

'How long has he been dead, David?' Grissom enquired of the Coroner, who was in the process of taking a liver temperature.

'Rigor's come and gone,' David replied. 'Lividity is fixed. Been more than 24 hours.'

He removed the thermometer as he spoke and looked at it. 'Room temperature.'

'No one missed him?' Grissom asked as he bent to take a closer look at the body.

Brass snorted, 'Vinny the Shark? No way. Even his own mother couldn't stand the sight of him.'

Grissom peered at the deep cut on McMann's right wrist. It seemed different from the other cuts.

'This one's a lot deeper than the others. What do you think, David,' Grissom wanted to know.

David took a closer look. 'He definitely bled out the most from that wound. The rest are superficial.'

Grissom examined some of the other cuts. 'The shallow cuts nearest the deep one bled out,' his gaze moved further down the victim's body, 'but the one's lower down didn't bleed much at all. They were probably inflicted when the victim was already dead or dying.'

Brass bent to take a closer look. 'What are you thinking?' he asked Grissom.

Grissom looked up at him. 'The first cut is the deepest.'

TBC.


	2. Business as Usual

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Two – Business as Usual

The entire night shift sat around the table in the break-room waiting for Grissom to arrive.

'Why is it that he can beat any one of us to a crime scene,' Nick wanted to know, 'but he's never on time for briefings?'

'It's a matter of priorities,' Grissom replied as he entered the room. 'Sorry I'm late,' he added pointedly in Nick's direction.

Nick smiled sheepishly. 'Hey, Gris.'

'We've got a DB over in Ryder's Lane,' he reported as he took his seat at the head of the table. 'Vinny McMann, loan shark. Cath, Sara, you're with me. Warrick, Nick, how's that home invasion/homicide going?'

'We're finally getting somewhere with the evidence,' Warrick told him. 'Pulled a couple of prints and got a hit on AFIS. Ex-con by the name of Jimmy Doures. Police hauled him in 15 minutes ago, and we're heading to the interrogation now.'

Grissom nodded, 'Great. You guys keep working on that. Catherine, Sara, can you both get over to the scene and process it? I'll be at the autopsy.'

'No problem,' Catherine replied.

Sara nodded and smiled softly. Grissom tried not to allow his gaze to linger on her face. He noticed that she hadn't said anything during the short briefing, but her eyes had occasionally flickered his way. Grissom was all too aware that they were in unchartered territory – the first shift after the kiss.

Having distributed assignments, Grissom headed down the corridor towards the morgue. He heard soft footsteps behind him. The tingles on the back of his neck told him who it was before she spoke.

'Gris?' Sara's voice stopped his forward momentum and he turned to see her close the distance between them. 'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'You got a minute?' she asked, smiling.

Grissom hesitated a moment before replying. 'Sure.'

He gestured for her to go into his office and took a deep breath before he followed. Sara cleared her throat. She seemed nervous.

'Um, I know this isn't really the appropriate time or place, but…' she began, hesitating and clearing her throat again. '…But we never really got to discuss … dinner.'

Grissom looked at her, feeling pretty nervous himself. 'Dinner?'

'Yeah, remember? You asked. I accepted,' she replied, trying to keep her voice light. 'But we didn't arrange the where or the when.'

'Oh,' was all he could say.

Flashes of the previous day came back to him. The overwhelming desire to see her, to finally tell her how he felt. The fear he experienced waiting for her to reply to his invitation. The feel of her lips on his. How difficult it was to go home instead of staying there, with her. The sharp pain of doubt that flooded back into him as soon as he got into his car. All the reasons he had resisted temptation, had stopped himself from becoming involved with this incredible woman had returned to his all too rational mind and, as much as he didn't want to, he experienced a pang of regret.

'Earth to Grissom?' her throaty voice brought him out of his reverie.

Grissom shook his head as if to clear it. 'Sorry. Uh, you were saying?'

Sara shook her head in exasperation. 'I was saying that I'm free tomorrow night.'

All his doubts and reservations were choking him. He needed to buy more time to think. 'I don't know, Sara,' he replied, trying not to sound dismissive. 'We'll have to see how… how this pans out.'

Confusion crossed Sara's face. 'How this pans out?' she asked.

'The, uh… the case,' Grissom clarified, desperately wanting out of this conversation. He knew his track record all too well, and therefore knew how close he was to saying something stupid that would upset Sara and make him feel like an ass.

Sara looked disappointed, but shrugged in an attempt to hide it. 'Oh… right. I just thought… Never mind. I'd better…'

She turned towards the door to leave. Grissom's heart sank. Even by saying very little, he'd still managed to say too much.

'Sara?' he called out, unable to stop himself.

Sara paused at the door, but didn't turn around.

'Cath's waiting for me,' she somehow forced her voice to sound cheery. 'I'll see you later.'

She left and Grissom's heart felt as though it would break. This is why he'd stayed away from her for so long. He always knew he'd end up hurting her with his bumbling, taciturn ways. And she, above anyone else in his life, had the greatest capacity for hurting him.

---

As Sara left Grissom's office and made her way to the parking lot, she blinked back the tears which were making their presence felt. How could she have been so stupid? How could she forget the past four and a half years? Did she really think that Grissom could change overnight? Yet there she was, going to him, fully expecting to pick up where they had left off the previous morning. As a result she had been totally blindsided by his latest rejection.

The previous morning had been wonderful. Truly a dream come true. Grissom had been tender and warm. The feel of his lips on hers was everything that she had imagined and more. She had desperately wanted him to stay, but the voice of reason prevailed. _The didn't need to rush anything_, Grissom had told her, and she had agreed. Now regret at missing her one and only chance of being with Grissom mingled with relief. If things were going to be this awkward between them after a simple kiss, she could only imagine how it would be if they had slept together.

She gave herself a mental shake as she stepped out into the evening air. She had work to do. Work was always her solace. She could lose herself in it for hours at a time. And if ever there was a time she needed to lose herself…

---

_Nothing like an autopsy to take your mind off girl-troubles_, thought Grissom wryly as he watched Dr Robbins work. The Y-incision had been made and the Doc was currently looking at the victim's heart.

'Heart's a little fatty,' the doctor reported. 'Usual suspects – bad diet and alcohol. But, contrary to popular belief, this guy's heart isn't black.'

'Metaphorically speaking only,' countered Grissom. 'Cause of death?'

'Exsanguination. The cut on his wrist went right through an artery. He would have bled out in minutes.'

Grissom nodded. 'What about the other cuts?'

'Superficial at best,' Dr Robbins replied. 'The ones on the torso and arms bled freely until he lost blood pressure. The ones lower down, on his legs, hardly at all. They were inflicted around the time off death, when his heart had stopped beating.'

'So the deep cut to the wrist was first,' Grissom wanted to clarify.

'First, or one of the first,' Robbins told him.

'What was the point in the shallow cuts?' Grissom asked him. 'The deep cut did its job, so why the rest?'

Robbins stopped examining the body and looked at Grissom, considering his answer.

'Well, this is only speculative, but I did hear about a method of torture killing where the victim is tied up and shallow cuts are inflicted all over the body. Very painful, and it takes a while to bleed out from small cuts. Could take up to a day or more for death, depending on the number and depth of the lacerations.'

'Cite your source,' Grissom asked with a raised eyebrow.

Robbins grinned his reply. 'Some slasher movie I watched last week on cable.'

Grissom rolled his eyes before replying. 'So, assuming your theory's correct, what went wrong here?'

'Best guess, inexperience,' Robbins told him. 'Killer didn't know what he was doing and cut too deep. Got the rest of the cuts right, but by then it was too late. And you might find this interesting.'

The Doc lifted the deep mans arm off the table and gestured for Grissom to take a closer look. 'Abrasions on the wrists and ankles. Sign of struggle. And I found several fibers in his mouth, so he was probably gagged. Victim was awake and aware while the cutting was taking place.'

'Supports the torture theory,' Grissom said as he peered at the injuries. 'So, maybe our killer drugged him, tied him up and waited 'til he was awake before he started cutting?' he speculated.

'Tox is still pending,' the Doc replied, resuming his work. 'I'll let you know.'

TBC.


	3. High Interest

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Three – High Interest

Catherine took a closer look at the blood that coated the living room floor. Bending down, she saw a tiny hair adhering to it. She reached into her case, and withdrew a pair of sterile tweezers and an envelope.

'Got a hair,' she called to Sara, who was processing a different area of the room. She brought the hair closer to her face so she could get a better look. 'Damn it. Doesn't look like there's a skin tag.'

Sara was going through a ledger on the victim's desk in the corner of the living room. In it were the detailed accounts of at least 100 people who owed Vinny money; and would have continued to do so for a long time, given the rate of interest, had the loan shark not been murdered.

'Well, it looks as though we may have a suspects list here,' she said, looking up from her reading. 'Everyone in this book, in fact. The interest this guy was charging was phenomenal.'

'Any big debts?' Catherine asked, walking over to her.

'Depends on the definition. A thousand dollars might be peanuts to one family and all the money in the world to another. But some accounts are being charged a much higher rate of interest than others. I'll take this back to the lab, go through the names. Maybe we'll get something.'

Two hours later, Sara finally hit pay-dirt. A nice, fat print on the rim of the downstairs toilet. And a trace of vomit that she figured was no more than a few days old. Lifting the print and taking a sample of the vomit, she went to tell Catherine, who was finishing up in the kitchen. As Sara walked in, she was opening a dish washer that looked like it had seen better days.

'Looks like murder may have been too much for our perp,' Sara let her know. 'I found traces of vomit in the toilet along with…' she held up the print.

'A print. Hey ho, our luck it is a-changing,' she said, crouching down to look inside the machine. She gave a low whistle. 'And a-changing, and a-changing…'

'What?'

Inside the dish washer was a knife, caked in blood.

'He left the murder weapon behind?' Sara said, incredulous.

Catherine picked it up carefully with gloved hands. 'And forgot to turn the washer on. Hadn't done this before? Or just plain dumb?'

'Judging by the vomit, I'll go with inexperienced,' Sara replied, opening a plastic evidence bag for Catherine to drop the knife into. 'If this guy was sloppy enough to leave the murder weapon behind, maybe he left his print behind on it too.'

'Mmm hmm,' Catherine replied. She took a last look around the kitchen to make sure they hadn't missed anything. The trash and all the other rooms had already been checked. Between them they had collected possible DNA, a print and the murder weapon. If the crime scene had any other secrets, it wasn't yielding them right now. They were done here for the time being.

Catherine watched as Sara placed the evidence bags in her kit and closed it. A look of concern crossed her face. She was sure that it was way too soon for Sara to be back at work after everything she'd been through. 'So, how are you doing?'

'Huh?' Sara asked, turning around to look at her colleague. 'What do you mean?' Surely Catherine hadn't noticed the tension between herself and Grissom already?

'Sara, it's been barely three days since you were framed for murder, kidnapped and held at gun point,' Catherine said, exasperated. 'And yet, here you are, back at work, when you should be at home recovering from a head injury. So, how are you doing with all that?'

'Oh,' Sara replied, relieved. 'That.'

She paused to think about it. Sure, for the first 24 hours, all she could think about was what had happened; how her friend had turned out to be a killer and how she herself could have been killed. But, honestly, it had barely crossed her mind today in the face of more recent developments. _How pathetic is that? _Sara chided herself.

She glanced back at Catherine, only to realise that the strawberry blonde crime scene analyst was analysing her. Sara hitched on a faint 'don't worry about me' smile. 'I'm okay, Catherine.' A grunt of disbelief. '_Really_ Cath. Best thing for me is work. No point sitting at home, moping.'

She had turned to leave the room when Catherine's voice stopped her dead. 'And how's Grissom doing?'

'How the hell should I know?'

Her response was a reflex, with not a shred of rationale. She closed her eyes in disbelief. '_Did I really just say that?' _she thought. Slowly Sara turned to check Catherine's face, to see if she had found anything odd about her momentary outburst. Evidently, she had.

'Sara, I was just wondering if you'd talked to him about… about the shooting?' she asked in a shocked voice. Apparently, Sara wasn't doing okay after all.

'Oh, I… no he hasn't mentioned it to me, and I didn't want to… push him,' Sara replied, stunned at her own insensitivity. She hadn't asked him if he was okay. She had blocked more or less everything about the events of that night from her mind. Then a thought crossed her mind and before she could censor herself, she was out with it. 'Besides, you're the one he talks to. Not me.'

Catherine didn't know how to reply to that. Sara seemed so angry and so… sad. A feeling in her gut said it wasn't all about what had happened with Jill. Sara seemed to be mad at Grissom. Sara turned on her heel and left the kitchen. Catherine picked up her own kit and followed her out to the car.

'Hey, Sara,' Catherine hailed her. Sara didn't stop, but slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. Catherine shook her head and climbed into the passenger's seat after depositing her field case in the trunk.

Sara looked straight ahead as she drove off. '_This is going to be like getting blood out of a stone_,' Catherine thought. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try.

'Want to talk about it?'

'Talk about what?'

Catherine let out a long sigh. 'Something's obviously bothering you. And since you seem to have temporarily forgotten that you were kidnapped, my keen sense of observation is telling me it's something other than the hell Jill put you through. Like, I don't know, maybe Grissom.'

Sara didn't answer for a moment. Talking to Cath about this would be like pouring oil on the fire. Grissom would resent her talking about his personal life and Sara didn't need any more complications arising between them. She decided to hedge her bets.

'I feel bad, I guess,' Sara told her. She wasn't lying, she rationalised; she was merely disguising one truth with another. 'I didn't ask Grissom about the shooting. He didn't mention it. I didn't mention it. But I should have. He had to shoot her because of me. It was the first time he discharged his weapon in the field. It must be hard for him.'

Catherine gave her the once over with her eyes. Sara was holding back something. She was sure of it. But she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. She decided to play along. For now.

'You probably have a better chance of getting him to talk about this than most.' Catherine told her. Sara gave her a quick look of disbelief. 'It's a shared experience, Sara. You can relate to it in a way that me, Warrick, Nicky, never could. You were _there_.'

Met with nothing but silence, Catherine continued. 'You know, contrary to popular belief, he doesn't really tell me much of anything either. Most of the time I have to drag it out of him. Like pulling teeth,' she added pointedly.

'Mmm hmm,' Sara responded, her eyes on the road.

'But I do know he's crazy about you.'

That took Sara completely off guard. Her eyes flew towards Catherine in shock and she forgot how to steer for a moment. Regaining control, she attempted to pretend that the words had no effect, but she wasn't that good an actress. So she gave into temptation and asked.

'He said that?'

'Not in so many words,' Catherine replied, a smug grin playing on her lips. _Jackpot_. 'But we had a conversation a few days ago. He made his feelings pretty clear; if not in word, then definitely in deed.'

Sara processed this. He was crazy about her? Then her rational mind kicked into overdrive. She already knew he had feelings for her. She had overheard as much during his interview with Dr. Lurie. He had more or less admitted it to her the day before. But none of it made a blind bit of difference…

'It's never been about his feelings,' Sara finally told her companion. 'It's about his choices.'

Catherine heard the deep sorrow and resignation in her voice. _Grissom's gonna lose her if he's not careful_, she thought. Sensing that Sara could be pushed no further on the subject, she decided to leave it alone for the time being. They spent the rest of the drive back to the lab in a troubled silence.

---

Greg knocked lightly on Grissom's door frame, causing him to look up, startled.

'Sorry, boss,' Greg said, 'didn't mean to interrupt.'

'You're not interrupting, Greg,' Grissom told him, hitching on his best professionally stern gaze. 'I was just thinking.'

He had been thinking, but not about work. He had been going over and over the previous morning's events and his encounter with Sara this evening. What had changed? Why was he so reluctant to let her get close? He had finally come to terms with what he wanted and now he was messing everything up. He shook the thoughts out of his head. He still had work to do.

'So, Doc Robbins asked me to bring you the tox report,' Greg was saying. 'Hot off the press,' he added, handing it to Grissom.

Grissom took the proffered report and studied it. Their victim was on a lot of different drugs at the time of his death, but one stood out.

'Our guy was on all kinds of mood elevators. Seems kind of strange that he'd have such a high dose of Valium in his system too,' Greg offered his two cents.

Grissom nodded in agreement. 'That may well be how the killer subdued him.'

Greg looked faintly proud at having just been agreed with by Grissom. 'So, need any help on this one?' he asked, hopeful.

'Yeah, Greg. Can you run the drug angle?' Grissom asked. 'Get a list of everyone in Clark County with a prescription for Valium.'

Greg's hopeful look fell somewhat. 'Grissom, that's going to be a huge list.'

'Cross reference it with all of McMann's clients. See if you can develop anyone as a suspect.'

Greg nodded and left the office, muttering sarcastically under his breath, 'Yeah, cuz hardly anyone on a loan shark's books is gonna be on Valium…'

---

Catherine and Sara made their way into the building and down to the hall towards the DNA and fingerprints lab. Sara hadn't said anything since her last comment about Grissom's choices and Catherine was really worried about her. She didn't know how much more pain this girl could take.

Sara was silently kicking herself for saying too much. It was one of her biggest faults. Over-talking. She hoped that Catherine wouldn't say anything to Grissom, but was afraid to tell her that in case it set Catherine off again. She couldn't stand being quizzed right now. She just wanted to bury herself behind a microscope for the rest of the shift and hide from the rest of the world.

Rounding the corner, she spotted the last person she expected to see. Elaine Alcott. Hank's bereaved girlfriend.

Elaine saw Sara almost at the same time as Sara saw her. She shakily got to her feet. Her eyes were swollen and red. Catherine gave Sara a nervous side-ways glance before going over to greet Elaine.

'Hi, Elaine,' Catherine said gently. 'Is everything alright?'

Elaine never took her eyes off Sara, but answered Catherine in a strained voice. 'They're releasing Hank's body today. We can finally have the funeral.' She sidestepped Catherine and moved towards Sara. 'Ms Sidle? Do you remember me?'

'Yes, uh... You were injured in the diner incident,' Sara replied in a wary voice. 'Two years ago.'

'Yes, and you were sleeping with my boyfriend.'

TBC.


	4. Recriminations

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Four - Recriminations

'Could you leave us alone for a moment, Ms Willows?' Elaine asked in a tight voice.

Catherine had realised that the best place for either woman was not the middle of a busy corridor, so she had hurried them into the nearest empty room, which happened to be the Layout Room. She was in the process of closing the door when Elaine made it clear that her presence wasn't required.

Catherine hesitated. 'I, uh… do you want me to stay, Sara?'

The brunette didn't look at her, but shook her head. 'No, that's okay, Catherine. Go start processing the evidence. I'll catch you up.'

Still unsure, she opened the door and left them to it.

Neither woman spoke for a moment. Then Sara cleared her throat nervously.

'I always wondered if you knew,' she said quietly. 'But when I heard you were still together, I figured you didn't.'

'I'm not completely _blind,_ Sara,' Elaine replied. 'I saw how you reacted to the photograph of me and Hank. I asked him about you. He said you were friends, but something in the _way_ he said it made me realise. So I pushed him on it.'

Sara turned to face her. 'I didn't know about you, Elaine,' she told her sincerely. 'The moment I did, it was over. I'm so sorry.'

Elaine shook her head. 'That's not why I'm here, Sara,' she told her. 'I knew about the two of you _two _years ago. Do you really think I'd wait until now to confront you if it really mattered to me?'

'Then why?'

A tear ran down Elaine's face. She brushed it away impatiently. Clearly she was struggling to maintain a controlled exterior. 'Is it your fault?'

'My fault?'

'I was talking to some of the other EMTs. Hank's friends. They told me that it was _your_ friend that killed him. _Your_ gun. To get back at _you_.'

Sara was stunned. All the guilt she had originally felt, the guilt that Grissom told her she had to let go of, flooded back over her again.

'That's… it's an open, ongoing case, Elaine. I can't…'

Elaine's calm exterior began to snap. 'I am _so sick_ of being told that it can't be discussed. I _need to know! _I need you to look me in the eye and tell me whose fault this is!'

Sara struggled for composure. Tears of guilt and sorrow at this woman's pain welled up in her eyes. 'Hank was murdered by a psychotic woman who blamed me, as well as Hank and others in this unit, for what had gone wrong in her life. Someone she was obsessed with was convicted on our evidence and she wanted revenge,' she said in a slow, calm voice. She tried to remain detached, like her training had taught her. Stick to the facts. Just the evidence.

'How did Hank get involved?' Elaine asked, confused. 'He's not a CSI. He shouldn't have had anything to do with evidence in a criminal trial.'

Sara hesitated before giving an answer. The truth was likely to cause more harm than good. But after all this woman had been through, Sara couldn't lie to her. 'The nature of our… relationship… was brought up when I was questioned at the prelim. There was a suggestion that Hank had manipulated evidence for my benefit. It was a baseless claim, just the defence team trying to tap dance around their client's guilt. But Jill thought… She believed we had planted evidence. She was deranged. She used details I had told her in conversation to set Hank up and…' Sara stopped short at Elaine's wide, furious eyes. She had said too much.

'You _told her_ about Hank?' Elaine demanded. 'She only knew about him because of _you_?'

'I… it wasn't…' Sara started to defend herself, but her own guilt stopped her. How could she honestly defend herself to this woman, when she believed in her heart that the entire thing was her fault? She looked the enraged woman in the eye. 'If you need to assign blame, Elaine, then you can send it this way. I blame myself for everything that happened.'

Tears flowed freely down Elaine's face. 'You think that's enough, do you? Accepting blame? We were going to get married!' she started to scream, the fury that had built up for days finally finding an outlet. 'He was the love of my life! And now he's gone. And you as good as killed him!'

She launched herself at her, talking Sara by surprise. A fist drew back and punched Sara squarely in the face. Another hand grabbed her hair. Sara didn't fight back. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she figured she deserved it.

Two strong hands reached in and pulled Elaine off of her. Looking up, and realising that somehow during the attack she had ended up sprawled on the floor, she saw Grissom restraining the grief-stricken woman.

'What the hell is going on?' Grissom demanded.

Drawn by the commotion, Nick and Warrick appeared in the doorway. Sara slowly got to her feet. Her rage spent, Elaine hung limply in Grissom's grasp, sobbing.

Grissom glanced round at the two men at the door and steered Elaine towards them.

'Guys, take her to the visitors lounge and get her some tea to calm her down,' he told them. 'Then escort her from the building.'

He watched them lead Elaine gently down the corridor before turning his attention to Sara who was standing, still stunned, in the middle of the room.

'Are you okay?' he asked, moving towards her. He could see her cheek and lip already beginning to swell. Gently he reached out and put his hand under her chin, lifting her head up to look at him. 'We'll need to put some ice on that.'

Averting her eyes, she told him, 'It's fine. Don't worry…'

The words caught in her throat and Grissom could see the tears forming in her eyes. Before he could say anything, she was rushing past him, out of the room and out of sight, leaving Grissom to wonder what he'd done wrong this time.

---

He found her a short time later in the locker room, staring blindly at nothing. Grissom stopped short at the sight of her. She seemed utterly consumed by her desperation.

'Sara?' he asked hesitantly, afraid that she would again push him away. But she continued to just sit there, her eyes focused on nothing.

He tried again. 'Sara?'

'That was Elaine. Hank's…' Sara choked out.

'I know,' Grissom replied. 'Catherine told me. She came to find me when she left you with her.'

'Oh,' was all Sara could say.

There was a lengthy pause, during which tears began to slide silently down Sara's face. Grissom remained quiet, waiting for her to talk when she was ready.

'I never even thought about her,' Sara finally said, struggling to keep at bay the sob that was building in her throat. 'She must be going through hell, and I never spared her a thought.'

Grissom sat down next to her, resisting the urge to put his arms around her.

'It's understandable, Sara. You've been through a terrible ordeal.'

'That's no excuse, Grissom. Elaine is _going_ through a terrible ordeal and it's at least partly my fault.'

''We've been through this, Sara,' Grissom told her firmly. 'You can't keep blaming yourself for what Jill…'

'I'm so selfish, Grissom,' she blurted out, cutting him off. 'I've been so caught up in my own self-pitying feelings, I forgot about everyone else. I've spent the past 24 hours stewing over what happened between us yesterday, instead of considering what you must be going through. I didn't even ask how you're doing.'

Grissom was momentarily stumped. 'How I…? Sara, I…'

Sara realised he misunderstood her and jumped in to clarify things. 'I mean, how you're doing since… the shooting. It didn't even occur to me to ask. What kind of person does that make me?'

The pain Sara was putting herself through made Grissom's heart ache. He reached out and took her hand.

'It makes you a very caring person who went through a trauma that she hasn't been able to deal with yet. You have to stop being so hard on yourself, Sara.'

A strange kind of calm washed over Sara the moment Grissom took her hand. He wasn't judging her. He seemed to understand. Her tears began to slow. Finally, when the sob welling in her throat had faded to a dull ache, she spoke. 'So, how are you doing?

'I'm okay.'

Sara turned in her seat so she could see his face. 'How are you, _really_?'

Grissom sighed. 'I don't know, Sara. Like you, I haven't even begun to deal with what happened.' There was a short silence before he continued. 'But I'm not sorry I shot her. Even if I'd killed her…' he turned to meet Sara's eyes. 'Given the choice of killing her or letting her hurt you… there really isn't a choice.'

'You should never have been in that position.'

'Neither should you.'

Sara sighed as if her heart was broken. A realisation had suddenly dawned on her. 'I can't go to Hank's funeral, can I?'

Grissom shook his head, his eyes full of regret. 'It's probably not a good idea.'

'Elaine hates me. Not that I blame her.'

'She's just in a lot of pain right now. Pain, fear of pain, it tends to blind us to reason.'

The tension rose between them, as both Sara and Grissom realised that he was no longer simply talking about the situation with Elaine.

'Sara, about yesterday…' Grissom faltered as Sara let go of his hand and got to her feet.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Sara brushed the tears from her face. She had wanted to talk to Grissom about this before, but now she was apprehensive. She didn't know if he'd say what she wanted to hear or not, and right now she was afraid to stick around and find out.

'I should, uh, get back to work. Can't have Catherine doing all the processing…'

She turned to leave.

'Sara, are you sure you're okay?'

She didn't give him her eyes. She could lie better that way. 'Yeah, fine. I just… you know me. Work's the best thing for me.' She continued towards the door.

'Can we talk? Later?' Grissom asked.

'Uh… yeah. Later,' she replied as she left the room, leaving Grissom to contemplate his hand, where Sara's had been moments before.

TBC.


	5. Nowhere Fast

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Five – Nowhere Fast

Over the next several hours, Sara did not stop for as much as a cup of coffee. She processed evidence like a woman possessed and more that once Catherine found herself watching the brunette worriedly. Sara hadn't said a word about Elaine's visit, or her conversation with Grissom.

So far they had managed to match the finger print which Sara found on the toilet seat to the print Catherine pulled off of the murder weapon. Unfortunately, there was no record of the print on AFIS. Mia, the new tech in the DNA lab, had pulled DNA from the sample of vomit Sara collected, and was running it through CODIS. Now, Catherine, Sara, Greg and Grissom sat round the table in the Layout Room, trying to make sense of it all.

'The prints we lifted at the scene aren't on AFIS. So we're either looking at someone new to the game, or someone who just hasn't been caught yet,' Catherine informed them.

'The disorganisation at the scene, the vomit, I don't think this prep would have had the wherewithal to have eluded the police for any length of time,' Sara stated. 'I vote for it being a newbie.'

Grissom nodded. 'I agree. The murder itself didn't go to plan. The Doc thinks that this was meant to be a long, torturous death. Multiple small lacerations were meant to bleed out over a day, at least. But the killer cut too deep, and the victim bled out in minutes.'

'Definitely not the work of someone who knew what he was doing,' Catherine agreed. 'Then he left the murder weapon behind, with prints all over it. Sloppy.'

'Well, we've now got the timeline sorted out,' Grissom told them. 'Brass interviewed McMann's next door neighbour, who saw him pull into his driveway at 10am on Monday. That's 30 hours prior to his body being found. That more or less fits with David's estimate for the time of death.'

'David said more than 24 hours,' Sara interjected. 'So time of death was sometime between 10am and 3pm, Monday.'

'The Doc's best guess is around 2pm. But maybe an hour or two before that, the victim was drugged with Valium.' Grissom replied, before turning to the newest CSI. 'Greg? How are you going with the prescription records?'

'Well, as I predicted, there were _a lot_,' Greg tried not to look too excited as he took centre stage. 'But Sara's been helping me. So far, we've narrowed it down to around a third of McMann's client list.'

'How many?'

'Well, there were around 200 hundred on his list, so about 66.'

'We have 66 suspects?' Grissom looked like he was getting a migraine.

'So far,' Sara cut in. 'We're trying to narrow it down by checking those who owed the most, were paying the highest rates of interest. But it's going to take a while.'

Mia bustled in with a sheet of paper in her hand. 'Hey, Sara, you said to get this to you as soon as.' She handed the printout to Sara. 'No record, I'm afraid.'

'Damn it,' Sara sighed, handing the printout to Grissom.

'Well, the chance of DNA being on file, when fingerprints weren't, was a long shot,' Grissom replied reasonably. Sara shot him a frustrated look, which he chose to ignore. 'Sara, you and Greg continue working through that list…' he paused as Jim Brass entered the room.

'Hey guys,' he greeted them. 'Apparently, Vinny's old business partner, Sam Hughes, had a grudge against the victim. Vinny left him high and dry and struck out on his own. A little bird told me Sam has a pretty bad temper, too.'

'Have you picked him up?' Grissom wanted to know.

'He's in interview room 2,' Brass replied with a smile. 'Thought you might like to have a little talk with him. The kind where you get his prints and DNA. I have a warrant all ready for you.'

'Thanks Jim,' Grissom replied. He looked at Catherine. 'Shall we?'

Grissom and Catherine got up from the table and followed Brass from the room. Grissom paused at the door and turned to look at Sara.

'You guys keep checking the lists,' he told them. 'But Sara, go home in two hours when the shift ends.'

'But Grissom, there's too much…' she began to protest. He didn't let her.

'No doubles for you for at least a week,' he told her firmly. 'If you won't follow your doctor's orders, at least follow mine. Go home and get some rest. The lists will be there tomorrow.' With that he turned and left the room, leaving Greg to suppress a grin at Sara's mutinous expression.

---

Sam Hughes was a small time thug, his face set in a permanent scowl of distrust and distaste for anyone but himself. Catherine and Brass sat at the table opposite, while Grissom stood against the back wall, his arms crossed, observing.

'So, tell me. Where you were on Monday, between 10am and 3pm?' Brass asked.

'I was washing my hair,' Hughes replied sarcastically.

Catherine took a look at the man's greasy mop before replying dryly, 'Somehow I find that hard to believe.'

'You can believe whatever you want, sweetheart.'

'Your buddy, Vinny McMann was found dead a few hours ago,' Brass told him. 'Got any ideas as to how he got that way?'

'Yeah,' Sam grinned. 'He probably pissed someone off. Vinny had a habit of doing that.'

'He ever piss you off, Sam?' Catherine asked him.

'I think you already know the answer to that, doll, else you wouldn't have hauled my ass in here for questioning,' was the reply.

'Vinny burned you pretty bad, Sam, right?' Brass said. 'Went into business on him own, took all your customers. You were partners, man. Friends. I think he more than pissed you off.'

'And what, you think I killed him?'

'You tell me, Sam.'

'I didn't. But I'd like to shake the hand of the man who did,' Sam replied defiantly. He nodded his head in Grissom's direction. 'Doesn't your friend ever speak?'

'Oh, I speak,' Grissom answered, moving away from the wall and towards the table. 'When I have occasion to. Say 'ah' please.'

'What?' Sam looked confused.

Grissom reached into his inside pocket and brought out a swab. 'I'd like a sample of your DNA. And Ms Willows here is going to fingerprint you.'

'Today's special, two-for-one deal,' Brass quipped, flashing Hughes a grin.

'You ever get depressed, Sam?' Grissom asked the man, as he swabbed the inside of his mouth.

'Who doesn't?' Sam replied as Grissom removed the swab and capped it.

'Ever take Valium?'

'I'm more of an amphetamines kinda guy,' he smirked back.

'This won't take long,' Grissom told him, indicating the swab in his hand.

---

Sara yawned and stretched but didn't look up from the sheet she was working on. Greg looked at the clock and then looked at her.

'Sara, shift ended 20 minutes ago.'

'So?'

'So, Gris said…'

Sara looked up impatiently. 'I heard what Grissom said.' She looked back down at the sheet and continued to work.

Greg sighed. 'Man, you're stubborn, Sara Sidle,' he told her. 'I've got this. Go home and get some rest.'

Sara looked up at him again, anger beginning to register on her face. 'Greg,' she warned.

'Hey, I'm all for the work ethic and everything, but Grissom's right this time. You need to ease yourself back into your working-yourself-to-the-bone routine. Go home, get some rest, come in tonight with a fresh perspective. Please.'

Sara opened her mouth to argue, but she saw the reason in Greg's request. 'Okay, okay. I'm going.' She told him. 'But call me if you turn anything good up.'

'You'll be top of my list. Now go home.'

Sara smiled at him from the door. 'You're spending too much time with Grissom, Greg. You're becoming bossy like him.

---

Grissom double checked the DNA results. He wasn't happy, but thanked Mia before leaving to find Catherine. She was coming out of the fingerprint lab.

'No match.'

'Me either.'

'We're back to square one.'

'There's still the Valium. Maybe we'll get a lead off of that.'

'Maybe,' Grissom replied. 'This is frustrating. The killer was sloppy and left us a ton of evidence and we still can't find him.'

'We will,' Catherine replied. She checked her watch. 'Tonight. We should go home and get some rest.'

'Yeah.'

'Want to have breakfast first?' Catherine suggested.

'In other words, you want me to cook breakfast for you,' Grissom translated.

'Thought you'd never ask. I have something I want to discuss with you.'

---

Grissom gave the eggs a final stir and turned off the burner. Spooning the scrambled eggs onto plates, he carried these and a plate stacked with toast to the table where Catherine was sitting.

'So, what did you want to discuss, Cath?' Grissom asked, placing her breakfast in front of her. 'I assume its not pertaining to the case…'

'You're right, it's not,' Catherine replied. 'I want to talk about Sara.'

Grissom swallowed a bite of toast. 'You think it's too soon for her to be back at work. To be honest, I agree. But, short of putting her on administrative leave, there wasn't a way I could stop her.'

'It isn't about work, Gil,' Catherine replied. 'Although you're right, I don't think she's ready to be back yet. But I know that nothing short of a Mac Truck would stop Sara from working.'

Grissom looked confused. 'Then what…'

'I want to talk about _you_ and Sara.'

Grissom was surprised, but hid it, taking another bite of toast and looking at his colleague and friend with a furrowed brow.

'I don't see what there is to discuss.'

'I do. The girl is obviously hurting.'

'Catherine,' Grissom attempted a level response. 'Sara has just gone through a trauma. _Of course_ she's hurting.'

'That's not the only cause of it, Gil,' Catherine replied. 'Call it woman's intuition, but I'm pretty sure the root cause of her upset has something to do with you.'

Grissom was silent at this, and Catherine decided to give him a few minutes to mull things over. She began to eat her breakfast, suddenly realising that she was starving. When he still hadn't said anything several minutes later, she looked up from her plate. Grissom looked distraught.

'Gil.'

'Did she say anything?'

'Nothing directly. Something about your choices… She didn't want to talk to me. But, I got the impression that something to do with you is causing her pain.'

Again, Grissom said nothing. Catherine decided to try a different tack. 'Gil, I know you care about her. _More_ than care. But you're going to lose her if you don't let her in. If you don't talk to her. _Soon_.'

Grissom still didn't answer. Catherine shook her head at the hopelessness of the situation. After everything they had seen, everything they had been through, the members of their team deserved some happiness, perhaps more than most. And here were two people determined not to claim some happiness for themselves. Seeing she was getting nowhere fast, she gave in and returned her attention to breakfast.

TBC.


	6. Bad Dreams

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Six – Bad Dreams

Sweat poured down her face as she sat bolt upright in bed, shivering from head to toe. Sara couldn't remember the dreams completely; just snatches of voices and images, swirling together in a terrifying cacophony. Reaching out one shaking hand, she groped for the bedside lamp and switched it on.

Sara looked around her simply decorated bedroom, half expecting to see someone – Jill, Elaine, Hank, she wasn't sure who – standing over her. Bile crept up into her throat and she struggled for a moment to keep from throwing up. She found herself wishing she had something to drink in her apartment, bourbon or beer, it didn't matter, just something to wash the taste of fear from her mouth.

Instinctively, she picked up her phone and stabbed out his number, pausing on the last digit. Her rational mind kicked in and she hung up the phone. As much as she wanted to call Grissom right now, she knew it was probably a bad idea. Things were still too complicated between them. She didn't know how he felt or what he wanted, and she was too afraid to ask.

It took a few minutes before her breathing slowed down to something resembling its normal rate and, when it had, Sara slowly got out of bed and left the room. She knew she had no mission of getting any more sleep today. Instead, she went to the kitchen and brewed a pot of strong coffee, before settling down on the couch with a forensics textbook, trying desperately to block the dreams from her mind.

---

Grissom tried in vain to get some sleep after Catherine left his townhouse. He would doze off in fits and starts, only to be roused by a fresh assault of her voice, reverberating around his mind, telling him he had hurt Sara.

'_Something_ _to do with you is causing her pain.'_

This statement swam round and round in his head, making him feel sick with guilt. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Sara any more pain. If anything, he had been trying to save her from it. He had been afraid that their becoming involved would be a mistake. That they'd only end up hurting each other. He also worried that it was all too soon for Sara. That she may be suffering from post-traumatic stress and would cling to him for support, only to regret her decision when the trauma had passed.

Inevitably when this thought entered his mind, he mentally kicked himself for initiating things between them in the first place. He should never have gone to her apartment that morning. He should have waited. He had momentarily been swept up in the notion of swooping in like some kind of knight from an overly romantic melodrama and gathering her up into his arms, taking all the pain away. Instead he had caused more of it. He had screwed everything up, and confused Sara even more than she already was.

Catherine was right. He would have to talk to her. The problem was, he didn't know what he wanted to say. How could he explain to Sara that he wanted to be with her, but he was frightened of the consequences of their being together? How could he tell her that he feared she would break his heart? She had so much to deal with right now; did she really need to deal with this too? And yet, if he didn't resolve the situation soon, would they have any chance at a future together?

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the phone.

---

Sara had been staring off into space, unwillingly going over her dreams in her mind when she was startled out of her reverie by the phone ringing. Giving herself a shake for being so jumpy, she answered it on the fourth ring.

'Hello?' she asked, cringing at the scared, weak undertone of her voice.

'Sara? Are you okay?'

Surprised that Grissom was calling her, she didn't answer. 'Sara? Are you still there?' he asked.

'Uh, yeah, sorry. I'm fine. Why?'

'You just don't sound like yourself,' Grissom replied, feeling guilty. She sounded upset and he figured, after Catherine's earlier speech directed at him, he was at least partly to blame. 'You sound… upset.'

Clearing her throat, trying to sound more together, she said, 'No, I'm fine, Grissom. I was, uh… reading.'

Not convinced, Grissom decided now was not the time to start avoiding the subject. 'Sara, come on. Talk to me. What's bothering you?'

_It was like he knew_, Sara thought. But that was impossible. Debating whether or not to feed him an out and out lie, or just skim the surface of what was bothering her, she surprised herself by telling him the truth. 'I had a bad dream. A nightmare, I guess. It kind of shook me up.'

This wasn't what Grissom had expected, but it was clearly what Sara needed to talk about right now, so he went with it. 'It's perfectly natural, Sara,' he told her. 'It's your mind finally starting to deal with what happened. Can you remember it?'

Sara closed her eyes and tried to visualise the dream. 'It was really disjointed. I know Jill was there. She, uh, she was taunting me. Telling me I'd never see anyone I cared about again. And Hank…' she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before she could continue. 'He was asking me to help him. But I couldn't reach him in time. And then I heard your voice…' she trailed off.

When she didn't go on, Grissom asked; 'What did I say, Sara?'

'You, uh… you were calling my name. Like you were searching for me. You kept calling my name over and over again. But when I looked for you, I couldn't find you. It was so dark, and I couldn't find you.' Tears now flowed freely down her face. 'And then I heard a gunshot and saw you lying there. There was so much blood,' she sobbed.

The sound of Sara's tears made his throat constrict. He wished he was there beside her, rather than only being connected by a telephone line. 'Sara, it's okay. It was just a dream.' When she continued to cry, he went on. 'I'm right here, Sara. I'm not going anywhere.'

'I know it was just a nightmare,' she told him, her crying easing, but the fear still present in her voice, 'but it felt so real. When I woke up, it felt like you…' She couldn't bring herself to tell him that for one, terrifying moment when she woke up, she had thought he really was dead.

'Do you want me to come over?'

'Yes… no… I don't know,' she answered, wanting him there but afraid to ask. 'I'm okay. Really. It just shook me up a little.'

'Sara.'

'Yes, I want you to come over. But…'

'I'll be right there.'

---

Greg yawned as he turned the page on the report he was reading. Taking a fortifying gulp of coffee, he added another name to his list. He had gone back over the 66 names that he and Sara had pulled from McMann's list of clients, and was now narrowing it down further by going over repayment details, rates of interest and McMann's telephone records. Apparently, Vinny liked to call the clients who had trouble paying him and harass them. So now 66 names had become 9.

Catherine walked into the room as Greg yawned once more. She checked her watch and took a look at the dark circles under his eyes. 'You didn't go home today, did you?'

Greg looked up, with a slightly sheepish expression. 'Not exactly.' Off her look, he explained, 'I caught a few hours on the couch in the break room. I wanted to get somewhere with this first.'

Despite his lecture to Sara about getting some rest and not overdoing it, Greg had done the exact opposite. He was determined to turn something up, both to help break the case and to ensure that Sara didn't feel the need to over do it when she came back in that evening.

'And have you?' Catherine wanted to know.

'Maybe,' Greg replied. 'I've possibly narrowed our suspect list down from 66 to 9.'

'Well, that's something,' Catherine replied, pleased. 'It'll certainly be easier to run background checks on 9 people as opposed to 66.'

'Maybe I can help with that,' Brass suggested as he strode into the room. 'I've been doing some checking of my own, and apparently one of Vinny the Shark's clients shouldn't even be on his books, since he appears to be dead.'

'He's got a deceased client on his books?' Catherine asked. 'Who's he been collecting money from?'

'The widow,' Brass replied, with a note of disgust in his voice. 'And I'll do you one better. His client, a Mr. James Davis, committed suicide, allegedly as a result of the loan.'

'Motive. The widow maybe?'

'Maybe,' Brass agreed. 'I'm going to have a little chat with her now. I wanted to know if you or Grissom wanted to tag along.'

'Grissom's not in yet,' Catherine told him. 'But I'm up for it.'

Greg had been busy scanning his list and looked up at them, beaming. 'Davis, James and Davis, Julie are on my new improved list. And guess what Mrs Davis's preferred mode of relaxation is?'

'Valium?'

'Bingo.'

---

Sara handed Grissom a cup of coffee and gestured for him to sit on the couch. His mere presence in her apartment had helped to stem her fears and calm her down, but it also served to bring up more questions. Questions she didn't know if she was ready to face just yet.

'How are you feeling?' Grissom asked her.

'Better,' she replied, giving him a small smile. 'Although, I guess I can expect plenty more where that came from.'

'I'm afraid so,' Grissom replied sadly. 'It'll take time for you to fully deal with what's happened. The dreams unfortunately come as part of the healing package.'

'I thought I was doing okay,' she told him, looking disappointed. 'I felt really together yesterday. And then, I don't know if it was Elaine coming to see me or what, but…'

'Sara, you didn't give yourself a chance to heal. You just charged in, rushed back to work. You should have taken more time off. I should have made you…'

'Like you've ever been able to _make _me do anything,' she cut him off with a grin.

'True. You are, by far, the most stubborn woman I've ever met.'

'Don't knock it. I worked long and hard to get this stubborn.'

'I don't believe that for a second. It just comes naturally to you.'

For a moment, they felt completely comfortable, sharing the easy banter they had enjoyed in their early days of working together. But things had changed over the years, and slowly the smile faded from Sara's face. Things were no longer as easy as the once had been and pretending like they were did nothing but confuse her.

'Grissom, what's going on with us?' she finally asked.

This was the reason he had called her in the first place. He had planned to address this very issue, but once more he had been caught up in coming to Sara's rescue.

'I'm not sure, Sara. I'm not even sure if it's something you should be worrying about right now.'

'Look, I'm going through a rough time right now. I know that. I'm trying to deal with it as best I can. But this…' she gestured between the two of them, 'this is just a source of constant confusion. I need to know where I stand. We both do.'

'Sara, I…' as ever, Grissom choked mid-sentence. Why could he find all the right words when talking about the evidence at a crime scene, or when deconstructing the timeline of death using insects, but he could never put into words what he wanted, no, what he needed to say to Sara?

Just then, all thoughts of the right or wrong words went out of his head as his cell phone rang. Letting out a gasp of frustration, he fished in his pocket for it. Sara sighed, and it was then she realised that she'd been holding her breath.

'Grissom,' he barked into the handset. He paused to listen to the person on the other end. 'Okay, good. I'll be at the lab shortly.' He disengaged the call. Looking apologetically at Sara, he sighed. 'I've got to go. We've finally got a viable suspect.'

'I'd better go in too, then,' Sara replied, getting up from the couch and collecting their empty coffee cups.

'Sara,' Grissom shook his head in mild annoyance. 'Didn't you listen to anything I said about taking some more time off?'

'Oh, I listened,' she told him. 'I'm just choosing to ignore you on this matter. And as for the other matter under discussion…'

'Right,' he replied, taking a moment to think. 'Tomorrow night. We're both off. Dinner?'

'Déjà vu,' she replied.

'Not really. This time, I'll actually arrange a time and place with you,' he smiled gently.

'In that case, dinner sounds nice.'

TBC.


	7. Payback

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Seven – Payback

Julie Davis was a shy, unobtrusive woman, who sat across from Brass and Catherine in her modest living room, looking completely bewildered. Catherine had a hard time believing that she could be the cold-blooded killer type. But at the same time nothing surprised her anymore. After all, she'd seen a little old lady murdered by a pen-wielding child and a dead man in a raccoon-suit, so there wasn't much that she _hadn't _seen…

'When was the last time you saw Vincent McMann?' Brass asked.

'About a week ago,' Mrs. Davis replied nervously. 'He came by for the money I owed him. And to tell me that the interest was going up again.'

'How many times had he raised the interest on your loan, Mrs. Davis?' Catherine asked her.

The other woman sighed. 'I've lost count. Five or six times in the last year… He'd tell me I wasn't paying him back fast enough and, next thing I know, he's putting the rate up again.'

'As I understand it, it was your husband's loan,' Brass said.

The woman nodded. 'Jimmy's business got into trouble about two years ago. He tried to turn it around but…' She shook her head sadly. 'He went to Mr. McMann for a short term loan. The bank had turned him down. But Mr. McMann's charges were really high. It became hard for Jimmy to pay him back and…' her voiced cracked and she couldn't continue. Tears glistened in her eyes.

'He could cope, so he took his own life,' Catherine interjected. 'Is that what happened?'

Unable to speak, Julie Davis nodded.

Catherine gave the woman to collect herself before continuing. 'Mrs. Davis, do you take Valium?'

Julie looked surprised. 'Why, yes. I do. How did you know that?'

Before Catherine could answer, a new voice interrupted her. 'What's going on, Mom?'

A young man of around 19 stood in the doorway looking suspiciously from his mother to the two strangers in his home.

'Kevin, the police are here to ask about Vincent McMann. He was found dead yesterday.'

'No great loss,' Kevin replied. 'Why are you questioning my mother?' he demanded of Brass and Catherine.

'We're talking to anyone who might have had dealings with Mr. McMann,' Brass answered diplomatically. 'We won't take up much more of her time, if you just want to give us a few minutes.'

Instead of leaving the room, Kevin sat down beside his mother. 'I'm not leaving,' he replied stubbornly.

'As long as your Mom doesn't mind,' Brass replied.

'No, that's fine,' Julie replied.

'Mrs. Davis,' Catherine continued. 'We were wondering if you would volunteer to give a DNA sample. Just to rule you out as a possible suspect.'

'You think my Mom killed McMann?' Kevin cut in angrily. 'How dare you come into our home and start accusing…'

'We're not accusing anyone of anything, Kevin,' Brass replied. 'We need to check out everyone on the victim's clients list as a possible suspect. We're just asking your mom here to help us out. Eliminate her self so we can shorten our list.'

Kevin still looked angry and mistrusting, but his mother shrugged. 'I have nothing to hide. What do you need?'

Catherine reached into her kit and removed a swab. 'I just need a saliva sample. It'll just take a minute and then we'll be out of your hair.'

---

Sara strode into the layout room on a mission. She knew Greg had been working on the evidence without her, and while she secretly admired his dedication, she was royally pissed at being left out of the loop. She was usually the one who spent too much time working on a case. Now it looked like Greg was vying for her crown as the lab workaholic.

'Let me get this straight,' Sara said, trying to keep a lid on her annoyance. 'You stayed here all day, after making me go home, working on the lists we were supposed to be working on together?'

Greg swallowed nervously as he looked up at her. 'I didn't work on them _all_ day…'

'And what happened to calling me when you came up with something?'

'I was going to…' Greg trailed off under her glare. 'Sorry Sara.'

'Well, fill me in now. What have we got?' Sara asked, taking a seat beside him.

'Well, I narrowed down our list of suspects to 9, based on the interest rates and loan amounts. Like you suggested,' he was careful to add. 'The rest on the list either didn't owe enough or hadn't been on McMann's books long enough to make it likely they killed him. Of the 9, Brass found out that one client had committed suicide, and his widow is still being hit up for repayments. Brass and Catherine are checking it out.'

'What about the other 8?'

'No criminal records. No wants, no warrants. No red flags at all.'

'So the nearest we've got to a suspect is a woman who's husband killed himself, possibly as a result of the money he owed the victim. That'd be great if it wasn't for one thing.'

'What?'

'The DNA I collected from the scene was XY.'

'So our suspect is male,' Greg replied. 'Damn it.'

Just then, Grissom entered the room. 'What's wrong Greg? Finally, the evidence is going our way.'

Greg looked puzzled. 'Gris, our only viable subject is a woman, which isn't supported by the evidence. How is it going our way?'

'Because her son works in a juice-bar around the corner from McMann's house.'

---

Mia had processed the sample for DNA in record time, and handed over her findings to Grissom and Catherine when they entered the lab a few minutes later.

'Julie Davis's DNA doesn't match the reference sample,' Mia told them. 'But I'm guessing you already knew that, since the sample was XY.'

'But I'm guessing that the profile still makes interesting reading,' Grissom replied.

'Yes. Her DNA profile and the reference sample share alleles. The donor of our mystery sample is a close male relative - either a father or a son.'

'Well, we didn't have probably cause to get Kevin Davis's DNA before,' Catherine smiled.

'But we do now,' Grissom added.

---

Kevin Davis sat in the interview room, fidgeted with a can of 7up. He reminded Grissom of a cornered animal, frightened and ready to bolt. Only he and Brass had gone into conduct the interview, while Catherine and Sara watched from the viewing room.

'Have you ever been in Vincent McMann's house, Kevin?' Grissom asked him in his mild voice.

'No. Why would I want to go there?'

'I don't know? Maybe to help pay your Mom's debt?' When Kevin didn't reply, Grissom continued. 'Your Mom says you work part-time, everyday before college. Is that to help her out with the bills?'

Kevin nodded. 'It's all been too much for her since… since Dad died. She tried to tell me that we're okay, not to worry, but… I've heard her cry at night.'

'Did you blame Vinny McMann for that?' Brass wanted to know.

'He was always on my Dad's back, you know? Constantly calling the house. Demanding money. My Dad tried his best but…'

'So what happened, Kevin? You're Dad's gone, your Mom can't cope with the debts he left behind, and so you decided what? Take matters into your own hands? Get rid of the problem once and for all?' Brass quizzed him.

'No! I didn't go near him.'

'The evidence is telling us a different story, Kevin,' Grissom told him. 'We found your DNA in McMann's house. And your fingerprints on the murder weapon.'

Kevin just hung his head in reply.

'I think you tried to get McMann to ease up on the interest he was charging your mom. He had just put it up again last week, right? Maybe you talked to him when he came into the juice bar you work in. But he wouldn't budge.'

Kevin's head had snapped up at the mention of his place of work. He was looking rattled. Grissom knew he was on to something, so he continued.

'So then you took your Mom's Valium, maybe crushed it up into his juice. From what your manager tells me, McMann was a regular, came in the same time every morning. So you fix him his juice and when you get off work you go to his house, where you know he'll be out cold. You went inside, tied him up and killed him. But it didn't go to plan. You killed him too quickly. And then afterwards you freaked out; threw up in the bathroom, didn't get rid of the evidence. You didn't think that part through, did you?'

Kevin still said nothing. Grissom knew they had enough evidence against him. They didn't need a confession. But for once, Grissom wanted to know why. Why was this young man driven to kill in the way he had.

'The only thing I can't figure out is why you decided to kill him like that. Young kid like you, no history of violence. Why not just give him a fatal overdose? Why attempt to make him slowly bleed to death?'

'McMann was bleeding my family dry,' Kevin replied, anger and fear both shimmering in his eyes. 'It was poetic justice.'

TBC.


	8. First Date, Second Thoughts

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One.

Chapter Eight – First Date, Second Thoughts

Sara was nervous. She had never spent so long deliberating over what to wear to dinner before. Normally, she was fairly functional when it came to clothing – slacks and a top or funky shirt, a suit for court appearances. Not that she didn't have nice outfits – she had made several impulse buys in the last year during the semi-regular retail-therapy outings she had allowed herself during her infrequent time off. But, as her social life was somewhat lacking, they rarely got an airing.

'This is ridiculous,' she thought aloud. After all, this dinner was more than likely Grissom's way of telling her that what had happened between them was a mistake. So what was the point in dressing up?

The other night had been a mistake. Of course it was a mistake. He was her boss. He was emotionally challenged. He lived for his work. What could he possibly offer her? Except, of course, everything that she had wanted for so long…

Grissom wasn't really so different from her, she thought. They both threw themselves into their work. Both had limited social skills. Maybe they could be good for each other. Two negatives equalling a positive. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine that this would be _the_ dinner, the first date. The one he had said he wanted to have, 'To see what happens'. But she shook the though from her head, unwilling to be quite so hopeful this time.

She had never met someone so impossible to read. If he were a suspect brought in for questioning, Sara was convinced that he would be more than able to pull the wool over her eyes.

Sighing, she finally decided on a green silk tunic with a high, Chinese-style collar. The sleeveless style showed off her arms which, along with her legs, were her best features. She teamed this with jeans and a pair of low-heeled sandals. A final look in the mirror sealed her approval. She looked casually elegant, sexy but not overtly so. If he was really going to pass on a relationship with her, she wasn't going to make sure that he saw what he was missing. But she didn't want to be _too_ obvious about it…

Picking up her keys and purse, she made for the door before she changed her mind.

---

Grissom had been having similar trouble. In case, it was a simple conundrum: tie or no tie?

He hated the things, found them entirely unnecessary and only wore them for court appearances and funerals. But part of him thought he should make an effort for this date.

And was this even a date? He knew it shouldn't be. He was a cautious man by nature; always weighing up the pros and cons of a situation, weighing the evidence and then making a rational decision based solely on that. If he stayed true to his nature and did that now, this most certainly wouldn't be a date… There was too much risk involved. Too high a chance that both he and Sara would get hurt – both personally and professionally. His ever rational mind knew this.

At the same time, his heart was screaming for him to take the risk he had been avoiding for so long. Hadn't he been alone long enough? Hadn't Sara? Hadn't he finally come to terms with the fact that he couldn't bear the thought of being without her? Did he really need another wake-up call like the situation with Jill had given him?

Still with no firm decision fixed in his mind, he dropped the tie on his bed and picked up his keys. He didn't need anything else adding to his suffering tonight.

---

When Sara arrived, she saw him sitting at the bar; nervously nursing a glass of what she assumed was some kind of whiskey. She stood back and watched him for a moment. He looked, well… _fine_, Sara thought, in a dark blue shirt and charcoal grey trousers.

As she watched him, she noticed a stiffening of his posture, like a hound catching the scent of a rabbit. He sat up straighter in his chair and slowly turned until his eyes met hers. Giving him one of her dazzling smiles, she strode over to meet him as he got up from his perch.

'Sara,' he greeted her with a small smile, taking in her appearance and apparently approving. 'You look…' he trailed off, words failing him for a moment.

She took the compliment anyway, and returned one of her own. 'You look pretty sharp yourself, Grissom.'

'Shall we get a table?' he asked.

Sara smiled and nodded, and as he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the dinning area, she felt her pulse treble.

---

Over dinner, their conversation was filled with small talk, and they even resorted to talking about work half-way through the second course. It wasn't until the coffee arrived that Sara finally got up the courage to ask the necessary question.

'So, what _is _this?'

Grissom looked puzzled. 'What do you mean?'

Sara figured she'd been too vague, and hated the fact that she now had to spell it out to him.

'I mean, is this a date or, is it…' she hesitated, unsure of how to put her fears into words. 'Is is just a way for you to take back what happened… the other day.'

Grissom said nothing for a long time. He had avoided the subject all through dinner, despite the fact that he knew it had to be discussed. He had held off, waiting for the right moment, waiting for the right words to come. Now she had taken the situation out of his hands and he still didn't know what to say.

An uncomfortable silence descended over the table like a fog. Sara shifted in her seat, unable to bear it.

'Come on, Gris. You've got to give me something here. This isn't the sort of conversation you can have alone.'

'I, er…' he started and stopped and took a breath. 'I honestly don't know what to say, Sara.'

Sara shook her head in disbelief. 'This is so typical of you, Grissom,' she told him in a low voice that belied her anger and frustration. 'You'll never change. Never take a risk. _You_ were the one who started this. _You_ asked _me _to dinner this time. _Twice_.'

Grissom lowered his head, trying to come up with something, a response to justify himself. A way to tell her what he wanted and how frightening it was. Nothing came to mind.

'I can't do this anymore, Grissom,' she continued. Her voice sounded resigned. Defeated. 'I can't continue waiting for you to throw me scraps. A hint here and there, a flirtation, and then nothing for weeks, months until you feel like talking to me again. I wish you could just tell me, straight out, that you're not interested. I could take that. But I can't take this limbo. I can't take you _still_ not knowing what you want.'

Grissom looked up at her, his blue eyes burning into hers for a moment. 'I know what I want, Sara,' he told her in a quietly intense voice. 'The same thing I've always wanted. I just… my heart and my head are telling me two very different things. And I don't know which one to listen to anymore.'

Sara reached for her purse. 'Well, I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago and start listening to my head. Goodnight, Grissom.'

She began to rise from her chair. Grissom panicked.

'Sara, please. Let me explain.'

Glancing around to make sure they weren't making a scene, Sara leaned closer to him. He could smell her perfume, understated and elegant, like her, and his head swam.

'What is left to explain, Grissom? I'm not worth taking a risk for.'

With that, her long legs carried her from the restaurant.

TBC.


	9. The Long Overdue Conversation

**Disclaimer/Author's Note – **See Chapter One

Chapter Nine – The Long Overdue Conversation

He watched her walk out of sight and his heart sank. He had truly thought that tonight would be the night. That he would finally be able to take the risk he had longed to take. But, as ever, when faced with the prospect of getting everything he had ever wanted, he choked. Why did Sara always have this effect on him? Why, when he had so much he needed to say to her, he could never actually say any of it? And why did he feel the need to sit here and rationalise, instead of going after what he wanted?

Without pausing to think any more about it, Grissom threw some cash on the table for the bill, grabbed his jacket and followed her. Sara had walked quickly and he didn't catch up with her until she was at her car.

'Sara. Wait.'

Sara paused at her car door. 'I don't want to hear it, Grissom. You've disappointed me for the last time.'

_Don't think, _he told himself. _Just spit it out._

'Damn it Sara! You expect too much of me. Why do you feel the need to place me on this pedestal, only to be surprised when I topple off?'

'What? I don't…'

'Come on, Sara. What else can you call it? Why else do you get so upset when I show my human failings? I screw up, just like everyone else at some point or another. I have a tendency to choke up when you confront me about… about our personal relationship. I don't always say what needs to be said. But that doesn't mean that I don't care about you.'

Not trusting herself to turn around, she waited.

Grissom sighed. 'It's never been about you not being worth the risk.'

He paused. When he didn't continue, Sara spoke up.

'So, what is it about, then?'

'There's just so much at stake,' he told her quietly. 'For both of us. And it frightens me. I'm scared of how much I might hurt you,' he took a breath before continuing; 'and of how much you might hurt me.'

Sara turned. Her eyes were bright with emotion. She didn't say a word, afraid that saying something now might break the spell. Grissom opening up to her was something she had never imagined she'd experience. She wanted to see how much more he might reveal.

'Do you know how many people in the lab have suggested that I am unfeeling?' he asked her. She shook her head lightly in response. 'Everyone. More or less. Even Greg has said it at one time or another. But when you say it… that's the only time it actually hurts.'

'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

'No,' he said, 'it's true. Well, the way I act most of the time, you'd be forgiven for thinking it. I have to be like that. I don't know why. I don't know how to be open with my feelings like the rest of you. I… I don't have the vocabulary. But I do _feel_ things.'

'I know, Grissom. We all know that. It's just… sometimes you hide your feelings _too_ well.'

'Have you any idea how many first dates I've been on in my life?' he surprised her by changing the subject so rapidly. 'I worked it out once. At least 10 times more than the number of second dates I've had…'

Sara didn't reply, but continued to watch him, now with a mildly confused expression on her face as he went on.

'Only one in ten becomes a second date. And of those, hardly any become a third. None, in fact, in the last 5 years.' He paused, running a hand through his thick, greying hair. 'I've put it down to a number of factors over the years. The job, mostly. Getting called away half-way through dinner to collect bugs at a murder scene does not impress most ladies. Then there's the fact that I'm not the most social creature in the world.'

'We have that in common,' Sara retorted quietly.

'I'm really bad at this, Sara,' he told her. 'I'm not used to opening up, sharing my feelings. And that's what relationships are, right? Sharing feelings. I don't even share my feelings with myself half the time.'

He moved beside her, leaning his back against the car so they were standing side by side.

'On some level, I've always known there was an attraction between us. If I'm completely honest with myself, it was probably a contributing factor in asking you to come to Las Vegas in the first place. But I never allowed myself to think about it, for the most part. Too many complications. The age difference. The fact that I'm your supervisor. I suppressed everything I felt for you, until the Debbie Marlin case.'

Sara nodded gently. 'You avoided me the whole time were we working on that case,' she said. 'I always wondered why.'

'I had to, Sara,' he replied, a hint of pain in his voice from the memory. 'Every time I looked at her, I saw you. And that made me shrivel up inside. The idea of losing you…' he trailed off, unable to verbalise the pain he felt at that time. 'When I interviewed Dr. Lurie, and figured out why he killed her, I… I think I kind of knew how he felt. In a way.'

He glanced at her. Sara was staring at him intently, taking in his every word. He had to look away before he could continue.

'It was my worst nightmare of how things would go if anything ever happened between us.'

'You thought you would kill me?' Sara asked in a slightly sceptical voice. 'Grissom, uptight you may be, but I don't think you're really the homicidal type.'

He glanced sideways at her again and shot her a chastising look.

'Not the murder, Sara,' he told her, 'the events that led to it. Debbie broke Lurie's heart…'

'By leaving him for a younger man,' Sara finished the statement, finally realising.

Grissom silently assented.

'Gris, do you know how many dates _I've_ been on since I moved here?'

Grissom though about it. He didn't know and told her as much.

'Very few,' Sara told him. 'I've only been involved with one person since I moved here, four plus years ago. Do you know why that is?'

'Is it something to do with the fact that you max out on overtime every month?' Grissom shot her one of his half-smiles.

Sara smiled back. 'That's one reason. But the main reason is there's only one man I'm actually interested in becoming involved with.'

Grissom was silent.

'This is usually the point where you clear your throat, get awkward, I tell you to forget I said anything, and you come up with an excuse to change the subject or leave the room,' she teased him gently.

Grissom reached out and took her hand.

'Don't expect too much of me, Sara,' he told her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. 'I grew up with the expectation that all relationships fail. I'm worried that I won't be able to change that conditioning.'

'Grissom,' Sara took his hand in both of hers. 'Nothing comes with a guarantee. But… unless we want to end up totally alone, we eventually have to let our guards down and take a risk.'

He drew her to him then, wrapping his arms around her in a tender embrace. She buried her face in his neck, taking in the wonderful scent that was Grissom.

'I just need some time,' he muttered into her hair, his voice full of emotion. 'I don't want to mess this up. You're too important to me.'

They lost track of how long they held each other, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to them both. When they reluctantly drew apart, Grissom tucked a strand of Sara's hair behind her ear and smiled.

'So, this weekend, how about I pick you up, take you out to dinner? Maybe out by Lake Mead? Somewhere special for our first date.'

Sara's brows knit in confusion. 'Uh, Grissom? Wasn't _this_ our first date?'

Grissom smiled and shook his head. 'Oh no. Our first date is going to be perfect.'

THE END.


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